


A Natural Talent

by laurus_nobilis



Category: Cardcaptor Sakura, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurus_nobilis/pseuds/laurus_nobilis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Slytherin Quidditch team needs more players and Clow knows that he's good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Natural Talent

It was really annoying to have the so-called gift of foresight when one couldn't really control it. For example, Clow would have found it very useful to know if he would make it into the Quidditch team or not. There were a few spots open in the Slytherin team, and he would really have liked to get one, since he had missed his first chance back in second year. But there wasn't much of a point in going to the tryouts if he wasn't going to make it, and he wished he knew how that was going to turn out.

The problem wasn't all the training. He enjoyed flying, and he probably would have trained anyway, just as he had for the last three years. No, what worried him was that Black had turned out to be the new Captain. Trying and failing would be disappointing, but bearable. Showing up just so Black could send him back to the common room... he didn't even want to think about it.

However, there was nothing he could do about it. The vision hadn't come on its own, and it had been ingrained in his mind since he was very young that one couldn't perform readings about oneself (he didn't exactly know what happened if one _did_ , but the thought of it always made him feel a little queasy, and that was enough of a warning for him). It seemed that he had to face the facts like the rest of mortals and take a chance.

He took a deep breath, held his broomstick firmly in hand, and walked down to the Quidditch pitch.

There weren't many people there when he arrived. Black had arranged for the tryouts to be quite early, so there wouldn't be curious people bothering them. Only the current team members and those who wanted to get a place were slowly showing up. Many of them were still yawning.

Clow simply sat there in silence for a while, waiting until the rest of the students tried out. He knew it was best not to cause trouble since the beginning, and he also knew that whenever he opened his mouth, trouble came on its own. Although there were some murmurs when people saw him come, Black pretended that he hadn't noticed his presence.

The team only needed two Chasers and a Keeper. A lot of people were going to return to the common room in disappointment. Some of the students would have been better off if they had spared themselves the embarrassment of trying, but several of them were pretty good. It was going to be a tough choice. Black watched everything in silence, his eyes narrowed as he followed every single move with the utmost attention. In spite of his dislike for him, Clow had to admit that he was going to make a good Captain. At least he was focused on winning.

As the morning passed by, a few more people did come to watch, and not only Slytherins. That was rather annoying. Clow didn't want to put up a show again; he had enough of that without ever meaning to. But it looked like it was inevitable. The pitch was far from full, luckily, but there were already enough people to spread a rumour if need be. Even Uric arrived, with a couple of books for the wait, and sat next to his friend.

“It will be difficult, won't it?” he said at last, looking concerned. “They are very good.”

“I'm more worried about what comes _before_ flying,” Clow muttered. Uric gave him a sympathetic look, but knew better than to waste words on it.

At last, the rest of the students were done with their tryouts. Just when it looked like Black was going to speak, Clow stood and walked up to him. As usual, he didn't need to say a single word to get everyone upset. Black's sister, a sixth-year and the team's Seeker, looked particullarly horrified.

“You won't let _him_ in, Arcturus, will you?” she asked. Black just gave him a bored look.

“You needn't have come, Reed,” he said. “We will not have a half-blood on the team.”

“Say that after you've seen me fly,” Clow replied, as calm as ever.

“Haven't you heard?” Black insisted. “Wether you like it or not, I am the Captain. And I don't want you with us.”

Clow didn't answer. He just turned around and started walking towards the seats, his expression blank, among the sneers of the Slytherin players.

Then he snatched the Quaffle from a Chaser and shot up.

“Take him _down_!” Black yelled.

He mounted his own broomstick to chase him, and so did the rest of the team, but it was too late. Clow was fast and they hadn't been expecting him; he was already near the middle of the field. The Bludgers zoomed past him again and again. He managed to avoid them all, always clutching the Quaffle in his arm. It was exhilarating. He could hear the other players' shouts, the noise from the crowd beneath them – was this how a Quidditch game felt?

He _had_ to get in the team.

The loops were very close now, but suddenly that felt too easy. He wanted to shine, to make sure that they saw what he could do if he set himself to it. He wanted to see Black's face when he had no choice but to accept him into his beloved, _Toujours Pur_ team. With a sharp turn, he flew above the others and in the complete opposite direction.

The surprise gave him something of an advantage at first, but soon enough things began to get more difficult. They were closing in on him now. If he didn't hurry up, he wasn't going to make it; he had to take a chance. He had barely passed the middle of the pitch, but it was now or never. With one last impulse, he threw the Quaffle at last. It went straight through the center loop.

But trouble wasn't over. It might have been out of sheer survival instinct, but his foresight suddenly kicked in again. He turned around just in time to catch a Bludger aimed straight at his head. Just as soon as he had dropped it, he turned sidewards and caught the second one, that came from his other side.

Then he saw Black right in front of him, holding the Quaffle. But he didn't aim it at Clow: it was going for the farthest loop. Clow barely had time to react. He zoomed towards the loop and stretched his arm –

The Quaffle was secured firmly in his hands when he turned around, unable to hold back a smirk. The rest of the team was silent, as if they were still trying to figure out what to do; their Captain wasn't giving them any indications. For a few moments, Clow and Black simply looked at each other. Clow could almost feel the struggle between the other boy's pride and his natural, Slytherin desire to win. In the end, Black just landed and tossed his broomstick aside.

“We have a Keeper,” he announced.

With a small smile, Clow relaxed at last. It was over. It hadn't been as bad as he had expected, either. Black _was_ a good Captain, as much as he hated to admit it. His sister was giving Clow a deadly look now, but not everyone on the team was as nasty as those two. They looked as if they had loosened up a little, too, now that it was all decided. One of the Beaters was still glaring, but Flint, a young Chaser, grinned at him as he walked past.

After Black announced the two new Chasers – McMillan and Yaxley – Clow walked back to the edge of the pitch. Uric was waiting for him, grinning.

“You saw it coming, didn't you?” his friend asked as they walked back to school.

“Not really. I didn't know how it would turn out this time,” Clow admitted. “Especially about the position – I was aiming for Chaser. But I don't mind. I like them both.”

“Not that,” Uric told him. “I mean the Quaffle. You _did_ see it beforehand, I could tell that.”

“It's still my own talent,” Clow muttered, frowning a little. Uric just laughed and shook his head.

“I know that. There aren't any rules against Seers playing Quidditch, anyway.”

Clow couldn't hold back a grin. Uric _would_ know that. He didn't like to play Quidditch, but he was obsessed with it anyway – especially with the Caerphilly Catapults. Clow wouldn't put it past him to actually memorize all the rules. After all, he was perfectly able to remember all of that sport's known history, when exactly had the Golden Snidget been replaced by the modern Snitch, and the names of the members of the Catapults' first official team.

“Well,” he said, “if they decide to make one later, you know who to blame.”


End file.
